Vignettes
by aolurker
Summary: These are, as the title indicates, short vignettes, a peek into the lives of Carol and Therese.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Vignettes  
 **Author:** aolurker  
 **Fandom:** The Price of Salt / Carol (movie)  
 **Pairing:** Carol/Therese (I hope that kind of goes without saying… ;) )  
 **Rating:** T (generally Tame... generally)

 **Notes** : I have gotten lost in the beauty of this story and the telling of it in the movie and the book. These are, as the title indicates, short little vignettes. They aren't necessarily told in order or out of order; they just are. I do not know if they are the first four of more that I'll write, or if these are it. The muse will dictate that, I suppose. I tried hard to keep these in the spirit and universe and tone of both the movie and the book, but I do not presume to be quite as brilliant or beautiful. I just had so many thoughts and scenes in my head, though, that I needed to write them down and figured I'd share them. I do hope you enjoy them. ~a

* * *

 **Big Enough for Two**

It hadn't been without awkwardness, or without hesitation. There was still history to overcome and a kaleidoscope of uncertainties that lay ahead. But, they were here now.

Almost.

Maybe.

They got off the elevator at Carol's floor, the older woman uncharacteristically fumbling through her purse for her keys, eventually finding them and unlocking her door, opening it for Therese to enter first.

Therese silently looked around. There was the same elegance, the same class, that she had seen at the New Jersey estate, but there was also something less restrained about the décor, more free. After closing the door behind them, Carol quickly and a little self-consciously showed Therese around, not that there was much to see in the kitchen and living room, before moving to the hall. They stopped at the first door.

"I was thinking this would be your room…" Carol's voice trailed off as she nervously waved her hand into the empty space of the first bedroom.

But Therese didn't look into the room. Not even for a second. She frowned and looked at Carol. Then she looked down the hall. Then back at Carol. "My room?" she asked, confused, very confused, as her eyes again moved not to the room they were standing in front of but instead down the hall.

Carol followed Therese gaze to the last door, to the door of her own bedroom, her heart clenching, her body reacting, longing, in all the ways it had before with Therese but in ways she had tried to temper for this meeting. Carol's eyes flicked back towards Therese's but didn't quite meet or hold them. "I…" Carol's voice caught ever so slightly, fighting her body, keenly aware of everything she'd put Therese through, everything she'd put them through; keenly aware of the devastation and heartbreak she had caused. She started again, "I didn't want to presume…" her voice again trailed off and she looked down.

The silence stretched long enough to finally bring Carol's head and eyes back up. The expression on Therese face, a mixture of unbearable tenderness and mild amusement, so mature, so assured, with all the confidence Carol herself was lacking nearly brought Carol to her knees. Nearly made her heart explode.

"I mean," Carol's low voice rumbled from her chest, "I _wanted_ to presume but…"

Therese stepped forward and saved Carol as she had so many times before. She kissed her. She kissed her slowly. But with purpose. With intent. "Presume," she whispered into Carol's ear.

Carol's eyes fluttered shut as her body flooded with all the emotion she'd been trying so hard to contain as she pulled Therese to her, elated, scared, hopeful. She then gathered herself together enough to pull back. She cradled Therese's face in her hands, now not hesitating to look deeply into the young woman's eyes, though her own were swimming with unshed tears. She then dropped her hands down, took one of Therese's and led her to the end of the hall, finishing the tour of the modest but comfortable apartment, motioning into the room beyond the last door and amending her previous statement. "I was thinking this would be our room."

* * *

 **Abby**

"I'll be home a little late tomorrow. I'm meeting Abby for a drink after work."

Therese had tried to keep her reaction to herself but was entirely unsuccessful. There was a moment of silence before Carol spoke again, "What is it Therese?"

Therese looked up from her plate, "I didn't say anything."

A wry smile tugged the corner of Carol's lips, "Your face did."

Therese continued to look back at Carol but didn't speak.

"I wish you'd like Abby," was Carol's eventual response to Therese's silence.

"I do like her."

"But you don't like me seeing her." There was no reprimand, no recriminations, not even resentment in Carol's voice.

Yet still, Carol's statement was once again only greeted with silent calm.

"She is my best friend, I've known her my entire life," Carol explained what Therese was already aware of. So it wasn't a surprise when Therese' only response was to blink.

Carol inhaled deeply then before speaking again, looking directly into eyes that were trying to hide so much and yet were so expressive instead. "Therese, can't change what happened between me and Abby. I can't change that I've done things with her that you've only done with me." Carol then reached out and took one of Therese' hands in both of hers, looking at and studying their joined hands for several long seconds before once again looking into Therese's gaze and finishing her thought, her promise, "But I **can** assure you of this – I've never **felt** things with her the way I've felt them with you. What she and I had and what you and I have - it's not the same, my darling. It's not."

Therese's shoulders relaxed, the tightness fled.

* * *

 **Piano**

After dinner, Carol stated she needed to write out some order forms she said she wasn't able to complete at work that day. She said she wouldn't be long and that Therese was welcome to stay at the table with her, but Therese could tell Carol would prefer to be alone to finish her work. So Therese wandered into the living room and sat down at the piano.

As Carol had promised it wasn't too long, 30 minutes perhaps, when Therese felt more than heard Carol approach her from behind. So she wasn't startled when elegant hands touched her shoulder. And she wasn't surprised when long fingers ran down her head and played lightly with the ends of her hair.

Her own fingers stumbled over the keys.

She tried again.

This time the tips of Carol's fingers brushed along her neck as it gathered the strands of brown locks.

Another wrong note.

Therese stopped. "You know I can't concentrate on playing when you do that," she said barely above a whisper.

Therese couldn't see the taller woman, but she knew her well enough. She knew the smile that pulled at Carol lips as she heard her quiet, low response, "I know."

* * *

 **I Want To See You**

Like their first night Carol had reached to turn the light off and Therese had stopped her. Unlike their first night it was Carol lying on her back with Therese poised above her.

Therese's eyes wide, her mouth hanging open slightly, as her gaze roamed. She could feel Carol watching her as she took in Carol and it thrilled her. She had been told before and since by people no longer in her life that she would eventually be embarrassed. That she'd eventually be ashamed. But she wasn't.

She was enthralled.

She leaned down, bringing skin into her mouth, tasting expanses she hadn't dreamed possible, barely knew even existed not that long ago, recognizing with each touch, with each graze, how she and Carol were the same but appreciating how they were so different in so many small but exciting ways, and she was determined to explore every single one of those ways.

"Beautiful." Therese wasn't even sure if it was she who had said the word or Carol.

But it didn't matter who said it. For it was true. It was beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Vignettes  
 **Author:** aolurker  
 **Fandom:** The Price of Salt / Carol (movie)  
 **Pairing:** Carol/Therese (I hope that kind of goes without saying… ;) )  
 **Rating:** T (generally Tame)  
 **Notes** : See Ch1 notes (in addition; it's important for those that have seen the movie but not read the book, that in the book Therese was a set designer, not a photographer)

* * *

 **A Light**

They were at a society event. Therese still didn't really understand these things. But Carol indicated she needed to go and so they went. Separately, of course. But together.

They were in a loose circle of people; fashion, furniture, decorating, real estate were all topics of conversation. Therese was trying not to yawn. And when Carol pulled out a cigarette Therese was thankful for the distraction. She automatically reached into her own purse to pull out a lighter.

When she had gotten it out and again raised her head, she was a little surprised to see two other flicked lighters and one other gentleman lighting a match.

Carol smiled amusedly, holding the unlit cigarette between her two fingers, a single eyebrow cocked, before she pointedly leaned towards Therese, and took a puff from the small flame she offered, holding the younger woman's eyes, reveling in the bashful smile it elicited, the dimples that smile brought to the fore, the small blush that colored Therese's cheeks.

And not caring what anyone else in that little circle of people thought of the non-verbal exchange.

* * *

 **Playbill**

The play was called _Personification of Man_. It didn't open to a ton of fanfare and it was in just about the smallest theater one could open in and still be considered Broadway. But it was still Broadway. And buried in the credits section of the Playbill, it still had the line, "Assistant Set Design: Therese Belivet".

As they made their way to their seats in Row J of the middle Orchestra, they were completely unrecognized and unnoticed. That was fine with them. Frequently it was hard for Carol to go unnoticed; for she carried that aura about her that demanded attention. But in this instance it was Therese who shined, beaming, unable to contain her smile and taking congratulations and excitement for those around who were also part of the production.

The curtain opened and Therese saw the fruits of her labor. Carol cast a sideways glace, pride in her expression. When the set rotated, moved, when a drab interior flipped and transformed into a beautiful exterior park scene, Carol saw the wide eyed excitement of Therese, seeing her months of work come to fruition.

Carol reached over and took one of Therese's hands and gave it a squeeze. Therese turned to Carol and smiled broadly in the dim light of the theater. A smile Carol returned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Vignettes  
 **Author:** aolurker  
 **Fandom:** The Price of Salt / Carol (movie)  
 **Pairing:** Carol/Therese (I hope that kind of goes without saying… ;) )  
 **Rating:** T (generally Tame)  
 **Notes** : See Ch1 notes (also, in Ch2, I wrote where Therese was a set designer; here she is a photographer, like in the movie)

* * *

 **How Do You Know**

"How do you know?"

It was almost the first thing that had been said since they had left the relatively congested roads around Chicago.

Carol looked briefly over at Therese then back at the somewhat bleak roads of rural Illinois. "Know what?" she asked.

"If you're in love."

Carol's heart leapt into her throat and she almost had to cough to cover her surprise. But she somehow managed to mostly maintain her outward composure; managed to keep her voice mostly light and even managed to put a wry smile on her face as she replied, "Oh, and I thought you were going to ask something serious."

Therese rolled her eyes good naturedly, "I am being serious."

"Yes, far **too** serious for such a beautiful day."

That seeming rebuke might have been the end of it. But after five miles, it was Carol who brought it back up, curiosity getting the better her. "Does this have to do with the letter you got in Chicago?"

Therese looked over at Carol but didn't answer, instead just studying the older woman. Finally, she turned away, looking back out the window at the rolling farmland and empty fields they'd driven into. "It was from Richard, of course," she answered Carol's question simply. Another mile disappeared before Therese continued, an explanation of the origins of her question, and a repetition of it. "He said he loved me. He said I loved him, and that I'd recognize that soon enough." Therese frowned then at the thoughts swirling inside her head, at the uncertainties, "But how does he know that?" Her voice dropped low, "How does anyone know, really?"

Carol wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical. It might have been. It might not have been. But if she were honest with herself, she'd have to admit that this question wasn't new. Not to her. In fact, it was a question that had been flittering around the outside of her own consciousness quite a bit lately.

But it was not one she'd been able fully answer herself. But something impelled her to try.

"It's like developing photos, I suppose," Carol said seemingly out of nowhere, the silence between them had dragged on long enough that Therese assumed the conversation had been dropped. But since it apparently hadn't, the younger woman turned her head back toward Carol.

And while Carol had lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and tilted her head slightly to the side, while Carol's words and body language indicated that she was slightly dismissive of the topic, Carol's tone and her grip on the steering wheel indicated quite the opposite.

Therese noticed both. So she simply waited silently for Carol to continue.

And after a moment, Carol did.

"I imagine that day after day, week after week, you spend time in your dark room. You go through rolls of film and stacks of photos." Carol paused momentarily as a rare car rushed by them in the opposite direction. "Many of them are okay, I suppose," again Carol raised a single elegant shoulder in a half-shrug before once again continuing. "Some are better than others, of course. Some you probably even like. But then some, probably many, probably most actually, you'll just throw out." Carol shook her head slightly as if searching for the right words to explain this phenomena before settling on a simple, "That's just the lot of a photographer." Carol then cast a quick look to the side to gage Therese' reaction.

She saw she had the artist's full attention.

She returned her eyes to the road then and took a deep breath, bracing herself to continue, to finish, to put words to her thoughts, to put words, however obliquely, around her feelings. "But then there's that one photo… you dip it in the developing fluid and it starts to appear. And even as the edges are still filling in, even before it's really clear… even before any of the details are really even there at all…" Carol paused just a moment before continuing, saying almost breathlessly, "You know. You know that's the shot." Carol dared not look to the side now, instead keeping her eyes focused on the long road front of her, as her voice dropped to barely above a whisper, "That's the one," she concluded.

Silence descended on the car then, Carol's eyes remaining straight ahead, Therese's remaining on Carol.

Maybe it was five seconds. Maybe it was five minutes. Maybe it was five hours. But finally Carol took a breath and purposefully took on an airy, unconcerned quality, as if she wasn't invested in the answer she had just given nor the answer to her next question: "So is that what it's like?"

Therese startled at the question, a gasp escaping her, caught gawking, caught gaping, "What?!"

Carol eyed Therese, glancing to the side, seeing the wide eyes of her companion, before returning her eyes again to the road, her hands tightening even further on the steering while, "With Richard," she clarified her earlier question, "Is that what it's like with Richard?"

Therese continued to stare at Carol, her breathing shallow, her heart pounding more than she'd like to admit. And yet… the feeling wasn't that unwelcome. She finally tore her eyes away from Carol's profile and looked out at the snow covered fields outside the car window. "I should think not," she said to the cows, "Not with Richard."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Vignettes  
 **Author:** aolurker  
 **Fandom:** The Price of Salt / Carol (movie)  
 **Pairing:** Carol/Therese (I hope that kind of goes without saying… ;) )  
 **Notes** : THANK YOU to all that have left comments. Especially those that know me from my M rated fic. ;) I promise I do hope to get back to that, but right now…I'm still a little swept up in Carol.

* * *

 **Staring**

"Darling, are you trying to make me paranoid?" Carol asked the question without even looking up from the book she was reading.

And because she hadn't looked up, she didn't see how Therese smirked just a little. And didn't see how the younger' woman's eyebrow had quirked up.

But when those small facial reactions were the only response from Therese, when there was no verbal answer to her question, Carol lifted first her eyes from her book, and then her head, giving Therese a look of 'Well?'.

Therese feigned innocence, "What?" she finally answered.

Carol's eyes narrowed playfully, "You know what." She paused just a beat before continuing, before stating what they both already knew, "You've been watching me read for at least the last 2-3 pages of my book."

With this statement, a broad cheeky smile threatened to break across Therese' face as she replied, "Actually, I've been watching you read for the last _five_ pages of your book."

That revelation, as well as Therese' obvious delight over it, brought a raised eyebrow from Carol; a raised eyebrow that finally freed that full-fledged smile on Therese' face and even allowed a small giggle to escape Therese' lips as the young brunette looked bashfully down for a moment then back up.

But other than that (rather adorable if Carol were being honest with herself) reaction, Therese offered no further explanation. So, feigning exasperation, Carol finally asked, "Well, are you going to let me stew in my paranoia or are you going to tell me why you've been staring at me?"

Therese grinned just a moment or two longer, biting her lip. But then the grin faded slightly and Carol could feel the mood shift slightly as Therese got a little more serious. The younger woman then shrugged one shoulder, as if what she were saying were not profound. "I like looking at you."

Carol wanted to believe Therese. But she didn't.

Or at least she didn't trust her belief.

So she frowned and waived her hand in dismissal and scoffed, "For goodness' sake, why?"

Therese became entirely serious then. Carol's reaction, her brushing off and dismissal of what was meant to be a compliment, slightly unexpected. So the younger woman cocked her head to the side slightly and replied with complete earnestness, as if it were plain for all to see, as if it were obvious, because to her it was: "Because you're beautiful."

There was a momentary look of surprise that flashed across Carol's face - true, genuine, surprise - before she finally looked down and away. "Stop," she admonished, though her voice had lost some of its strength, "Be serious, Therese."

That's when Therese frowned, truly confused. And her confusion and along with simplicity and honesty was conveyed in her reply to Carol when the older woman finally looked back up: "I was being serious."

And, again to Therese' confusion, there was that surprise. That utter surprise that flashed only briefly but so brightly across her love's face.

But in that moment, that brief revelation, Therese realized something. It struck her. Perhaps she should have known. Perhaps she should have realized. But she hadn't. But it was plainly clear now.

Carol wasn't used to this.

Carol wasn't used to that word being used to describe her in such a mundane domestic setting.

Why?

Because it must not have been something Harge had told her.

Not often, at least.

Certainly not often _enough_.

Well, fuck him.

Any remnants of a smile faded from Therese's face and she slid over on the couch to sit right next to Carol. She took the older woman's face between both her hands, "You are beautiful," she repeated.

She couldn't fathom a person not saying such a thing to Carol and, in fact, saying a whole lot more to her every day, every single day they had the opportunity to.

And while she couldn't change the pas, she could rectify it.

She could make up for it.

"You are beautiful," she said again as she leaned in for a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Vignettes  
 **Author:** aolurker  
 **Fandom:** The Price of Salt / Carol (movie)  
 **Pairing:** Carol/Therese (I hope that kind of goes without saying... )  
 **Notes:** they're just so perfect together! ;)

* * *

 **Dance with Me**

Carol watched with a small indulgent smile as Therese excitedly unwrapped the record she had purchased earlier that day, and as the brunette carefully placed and then set the needle down on the spinning vinyl disc.

The first several songs were upbeat. Carol simply puffed on her cigarette as she silently watched and very much enjoyed as Therese bobbed her head to the music being emitted from the record player. The younger woman was oblivious to the attention as she was lost in both the music as well as the miniature cardboard set she was constructing on their living room floor.

If asked, Carol would have said she was completely content to spend the whole evening just listening to the record and just watching this other person who had occupied her life since the moment they met.

And she wouldn't have been lying. She was content with that.

But then…. but then there was a brief pause as the record player's needle traced the empty route between songs, a moment or two of quiet static. And when the music resume, the beat was slower, and the melody held traces of longing, and of desire. Carol listened more carefully, and was rewarded with a chorus filled with words and emotions she related to more than she would have expected.

She was inspired to do more than simply listen and watch.

She rose from her seat on the sofa and extinguished her cigarette. She went over to the record player and lifted the needle.

Therese looked up from her work, a tiny wall that could rotate and change from an indoor staircase into outdoor balcony held in her hand, curious at the disruption of the music. And her confusion only grew when the same song started over again as Carol dropped the needle back to the start, then turned to her.

The older woman turned from the record player and simply looked at Therese for a moment before approaching her, stopping one or two feet from her and simply offering her hand.

Therese frowned at it. Then looked up uncertainly at Carol.

Carol's face betrayed so little and yet… so much. "Dance with me," she requested simply.

Therese' heart skipped a beat as thoughts, thoughts she'd had and words she'd spoken on prior occasions, to other people, in a prior life, flew into forefront of her mind: 'No, thank you, I'm no good at dancing' … 'I'm sorry, but I don't really like to dance' … 'Thank you but I'd prefer not to."

And these statements were ultimately true – she wasn't any good and she didn't really enjoy it and she'd really prefer not to.

But even as the memory of these previous conversations flittered across her mind, and even as part of her brain told her to demur, she found herself instinctively reaching for Carol's hand and letting herself be pulled to her feet.

But as soon as she was up, she shook her hand free of Carol's. She shook her hand free so that she could place it formally on the taller woman's shoulder. The other hand Therese held out to her side. And she stood a proper 9 to 12 inches away from Carol. She did it unthinkingly. She did it by rote. By training. By every experience she'd had in her life to this point.

Carol smiled in mild amusement but also utter adoration at the formality and slight awkwardness of her partner, both of which spoke to a lingering and charming innocence. But an innocence that was no longer entirely necessary between them. So Carol simply responded with actions rather than words, reaching up to the hand on her shoulder and, still looking into Therese' eyes guided the brunette's hand to Carol's lower back instead, while also taking a small step forward, bringing, forcing, their bodies together.

Carol was rewarded with a catch in Therese' breath and a slight widening of Therese' eyes. The older woman then stretched her hand out to meet Therese's, but she didn't leave it out there, but instead brought it inwards, so that their clasped hands were united between them at shoulder level. "I mean really dance with me, sweetheart," Carol murmured tenderly.

Pressed against Carol fully, the feel of Carol's one hand holding hers and the other hand stroking the hair on the back of her head, Therese found herself instinctively melting. Any tension she might have had escaped on a sigh as she did what felt entirely natural; she lay her head on Carol's shoulder, buried her face in to crook of Carol's neck and lose herself to Carol and to the sway of the music.

And in those moments, those moments of closeness, of quiet enjoyment of the other, each lost in their own thoughts entirely of the other, Therese realized that she'd been wrong. So wrong.

It wasn't that she didn't like dancing or wasn't good at it.

It was just that she hadn't ever danced with the right person before.


End file.
